"I can't sing any more; I 'm tired," she said, and walked away to Madam in the other room.

The red head vanished like a meteor, for Polly's tone had been decidedly cool.
The old lady put out her hand, and drawing Polly to her knee, looked into her face with such kind eyes, that Polly forgot the impressive cap, and smiled at her confidingly; for she saw that her simple music had pleased her listener, and she felt glad to know it.
"You must n't mind my staring, dear," said Madam, softly pinching her rosy cheek.

"I have n't seen a little girl for so long, it does my old eyes good to look at you." Polly thought that a very odd speech, and could n't help saying, "Are n't Fan and Maud little girls, too ?" "Oh, dear, no! not what I call little girls.

Fan has been a young lady this two years, and Maud is a spoiled baby.

Your mother 's a very sensible woman, my child." "What a very queer old lady!" thought Polly; but she said "Yes 'm" respectfully, and looked at the fire.
"You don't understand what I mean, do you ?" asked Madam, still holding her by the chin.
"No 'm; not quite." "Well, dear, I 'll tell you.